


Have yourself a Mothman little Christmas

by katsukiy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Hunk is a gift, Keith and Pidge are into cryptids, Lance loves penguins, Lance won't let Mothman into his heart, M/M, Mutual Pining, Voltron Secret Santa 2016, also there's Mothman, hint to shallura if you squint, like a lot, literally just a bunch of headcanons shoved together into a fic, well not literally because you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 00:42:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9048487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katsukiy/pseuds/katsukiy
Summary: With a scolding expression, generally aimed at Lance, Allura berates, “Lance, you know better than to poke fun at Keith about this mosquito man, now, don’t you?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Where Coran is the Arthur Weasley of the situation, Shiro is pretty and likes winking, Hunk is a gift, Pidge is amused, Lance is just “fuckit everyone gets socks”, Keith is actually a great present giver, and I didn’t want to think about the other presents because I can barely think about real presents I have to give to real people sooo it’s a guessing game!!! …..haha  
> I basically shoved a bunch of headcanons i loved into a christmas fic ok
> 
> Also! This is my Secret Santa for Bex (@galralance on tumblr)! They said they liked pining and I definitely saw some Mothman shitpost on their blog lmao. I swear this is more Fluff than it seems, I hope you have a great Christmas!!!

So, here’s the thing. In space, it doesn’t get colder. In space nothing happens, really, if you want to see it that way. Time is just a line, made up to calculate just how much sleep you should get to not feel shitty the “morning” after. It doesn’t matter if you measure it in minutes or in ticks, and if you count days and months, no matter how hard you try to keep up, in the end it all becomes a blur.

 

In Lance’s opinion, that’s a whole lot of annoying.

 

He has tried to count the days. He’s asked Coran to set up some kind of timer to make the Palace’s lights dim slowly after a certain amount of ticks, they all tried to go to bed roughly at a certain point (except Pidge, because of course), but things were- messy.

One, because Allura has no decency in waking them up at random times just to test their reflexes (which Shiro finds endearing, beats him why; Lance just wants to bite his pillow into oblivion and be ridden of his mortal body to chill in the shadow realm forever - there, at least, he’d be able to get his beauty sleep, right?).

Two, because attacks come whenever. It’s not like they can just forfait because “Lance’s totally right but also super made up clock says it’s the middle of the night, we’re sleeping, try again in the morning, thanks”, could they? Well, Lance _would_ , but Galras have a tendency to be evil and shooting things at sight so, no.

Three, four, five, exc exc, time works only if you have some kind of point of reference. Which, being in the middle of space, constantly moving and hiding and fighting, they have none.

And that’s why he decided to just- say fuck it all. There’s no way of keeping track of the time, so he’ll just make his own calendar, and it’ll be _awesome._

 

...So, it’s Christmas.

 

Because he says it is, and the others have no way of saying otherwise. And since it’s Christmas, celebrating is a must.

 

When Lance explains to a delighted Coran and a befuddled but kindly interested Allura, they react joyfully. Sure thing, a celebration is just what they need right now, what with the morale being a little low after the last battle which they don’t talk about, that may or may not have ended with Hunk in the pod for the longest of times and everyone tearing their hair out because Hunk is fundamental and they missed him so much (and if Lance sometimes just goes to hug him out of the blue, who’s there to blame him?).

 

Coran offers to help with the decorations, noting they have some kind of “celebratory stuff” from old altean banquets, they can hang those and he can definitely reprogram the castle’s lights in a more “festive way”, and he has a manic glint in his eyes while he says it - Lance couldn’t be more glad yet scared at the same time. He just knows they’re gonna end up going nuts over red and green stroboscopic lights, and hell if he isn’t gonna enjoy it.

 

The other paladins decide to go with it. Hunk’s gleeful, still a little pale and frail looking but with a big goofy smile. He says he’s definitely gonna come up with the best of the recipes for the great night, which Lance’s set in a week, to give them time to come up with presents (that are not obligatory but appreciated, thank you very much), and Pidge promises to help him out. Shiro looks kind of touched, his expression open and kind. Keith just smiles, but his eyes are warm and that’s all Lance needs, for now.  

 

The whole ordeal kinda goes smoothly from there on. In between training, they hang glittery, shiny stuff on everything suitable, Hunk recovers and experiments in the kitchen, Keith trains, Pidge finds a planet where they spot some plants scarily similar to pine trees (which they hastily flee when the trees start screaming), Shiro does his thing and Allura and Coran keep coming up with weird ideas to celebrate, reminiscing old altean customs and parties.

 

With Pidge’s help, Lance sneaks out on Blue and buys tons of what might be the alien alternative of yarn, and needles that were probably aimed to be used as a weapon, but it’ll do. He’s acutely aware they don’t need them, but he starts knitting socks for everyone.

It might be lame, but he’s reached the point in his life where socks are actually a gift he’d die for (considering they are in space and socks are not commonly sold in space bazaars, given some aliens don’t even have feet and as precedently noted, it doesn’t _exactly_ get cold in space), and he’s pretty good at knitting, so whatever. He’ll come up with something better next Christmas.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“It’s not like you’re gonna make me change opinion, anyway,” Lance is saying, with a stubborn pout, lounged on the couch like a terribly manner-trained cat.

It’s five days to Christmas, and he’s been knitting all night long, so he’s grumpy and tired, and also kind of embarrassed because he started fantasizing about mistletoe and Keith, and here Keith is, skin glistening with sweat after training (and not showering yet, disgusting boy) spouting excitedly some nonsense at Pidge - which of course made Lance butt in, because who do you think he is?

 

Keith is, in fact, talking about a shared interest with Pidge, which is _cryptids_. Lance is not even surprised. After getting to know him, and after seeing the wall of his shack, he’s just accepted it as another interesting fact about his crush - yeah, that’s what we’re calling it, he’s mature enough to admit it. Also, there was that time that Keith put in the washer something suspiciously resembling alien print boxers, and Lance doesn’t know where or how he got them, but the thought does things to him - mostly making him snicker and wanna lay face down on the floor screaming.

 

So, okay, he’s kind of jealous that Keith and Pidge share an interest which he can’t relate to. Of course aliens are real, he’s seen them, hell, he’s _flirted_ with them, has been shot multiple times by them, so there’s that. But now… Nessie, Bigfoot and Mothman are definitely another whole deal. And isn’t that the point?

 

In the present, Keith is looking at him, with his eyebrows scrunched up, his gaze apparently undecided between looking at his eyes and his pout, and Lance has to force himself to not gulp visibly and keep a straight ( _hah_ ) face.

 

“Am I, now?” Keith growls, his body tense, his jaw taut.

 

The silence that falls then is pretty awkward. He sees some movement with the corner of his eye, and just as Lance’s grin unfurls, his mouth open to reply in an intentionally infuriating way, Allura is there.

 

With a scolding expression, generally aimed at Lance, she berates, “Lance, you know better than to poke fun at Keith about this _mosquito man_ , now, don’t you?”

 

Both of them grimace, although one is a little more amused than the other. “It’s Mothman,” Lance laughs, just as Keith’s heated “It’s not _mosquito man,_ he’s Mothman!” resonates in the room.

 

Allura’s expression falls quickly into stupor. And as quickly, a smile spreads across her face. “Well, then it’s settled,” she coos, not without a little satisfaction. “Lance believes in Mothman too, Keith, he’s just a little reluctant, don’t you see? You have to be patient about this.” She pointedly looks at Lance, like daring him to say anything else. Which he does, of course.

 

“I absolutely do not!”

 

Before witnessing a murder, Pidge sagely pipes up “Lance, isn’t this just like your thing with penguins? Just let us be.”

 

Lance can’t believe this. Penguins are _real,_ and they’re beautiful creatures, thank you very much. He says just so and it earns him a snort. “You know they smell and are awfully noisy and also pretty depraved, right?”

 

He narrows his eyes. “Says the ones who idolize an hairy half-moth who is said to have murdered fifty people?”

 

Keith flinches. “That’s not true!” he yells, and Pidge’s hand comes down on his arm, at which Keith exhales and sits back, his eyes hooded, his mouth tight. They exchange a back and forth of complicated looks, and in the end Keith nods, smiles and relaxes, his eyes now communicating some sort of “we’re too good for you anyway”.

 

What? That’s all for _Mothman_? Who the hell’s this guy to make Keith go ape shit? Lance breathes through his nose and raises from the sofa. “I can’t believe I had to be there for you to insult penguins,” he says, uptightly, and leaves.

 

He’s outraged. Also, sweating, angry Keith is something he can stand for limited periods of time before combusting, and the quota for today is reached.

 

In his room, he idly clicks around on the pad Pidge designed to make them unwind after long training sessions and battles - it’s a little thing of beauty, because it connects to the intergalactic internet or something, Lance hasn’t asked.

 

He automatically finds himself reading articles about Mothman, and the guy sure is a celebrity.

They even made a movie.

 

Huh.

 

Lance guiltily taps the link.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Keith is just about done with this Christmas. He’s fought the Galran Empire, had a face to face literal fight with Zarkon, he pilots a giant automated lion who also has a soul, and yet he’s never been so anxious in his life because of _Christmas presents._

 

Of course Lance would organize the _one_ festivity that forced you to think about feelings and awkwardly try to cover up the fact that you have a giant crush on a dumb boy while trying to get him a present that doesn’t suck, possibly wooing him in the process and making him fall desperately in love with you and- he’s getting sidetracked.

 

The thing is, he’s anxious. And tired. And screwed.

 

He shifts. Huffing, he changes the grip on the bayard a little as the bot charges at him. Damn it.

 

Lance seems the kind of guy that would love everything you’ll give him, really, but Keith has it bad and he wants to do something special, okay? He tried asking Pidge, but got only a snicker in response and a “Anything will be good if it’s you” which is wrong and not what he had asked, thank you. He’d ask Hunk, but the guy is so loyal he’d probably tell Lance and that’s out of the question. Shiro said “why don’t you just give him your heart?” and winked, which- _gross_. Let’s just not mention the reply Coran and Allura gave, because it was embarrassing.

 

He does kind of remember Lance saying something about the last bazaar they visited and this apparently miraculous face cream but isn’t it a little- well, but he said he wanted it, right? So Keith will damn buy it. He even blushes a little thinking about it. Oh my god.

 

That’s when the bot comes crashing on him, effectively making him fall on his ass. “End of the training sessions,” Keith wheezes, and then starts laughing.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Before taking Red on a little trip, he tells Shiro, to be sure someone knows where he’ll be, and receives a raised eyebrow and another wink. “Stop it, please,” he begs, weakly, facing the other way. Shiro chuckles good naturedly and gives him a pat on the shoulder. “To conquer your prince’s heart!” he whispers conspiratorially, and Keith sighs and leaves.

 

While browsing the bazaar, noisy and bustling with people of all variety, he finds something for the others too: some piece of machinery that Pidge wanted, a rare multi-use potted plant for Hunk, a mixture of natural black paint really similar to eyeliner for Shiro (who keeps complaining about his own being near to finished), a pretty retractable knife for Allura, and an old book on various populations’ traditions for Coran.

 

The face cream for Lance feels too little of a present, so for good measure he buys him some cool leather gloves (with fingers, because he doesn’t have a death wish) and a tiny plant that resembles a succulent. Maybe part of the reason he buys the latter is that seeing Lance caring for something he gave him will make him die inside, but he also knows Lance deeply misses Earth and this is the nearest thing he could find to remind him they’re not so far from there.

 

Just thinking about explaining this to Lance makes entering Zarkon’s ship, alone, guns blazing seem like a good idea, but he knows Lance will understand it without making him talk. Unless he’s feeling really cheeky, and in that case Keith has a bayard and knows how to use it.

 

When he goes back bringing his new acquirements, Red purrs into his mind in agreement. She thinks the presents are well thought.

 

Keith smiles and traces gently his fingers on the commands. That’s good.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It’s day X. The Palace is full of noise, filled with shiny decors and the lights have gone crazy. Red and greens reflect on the walls and the glittery garlands, making it seem a crazy booze frat party.

 

Lance is delighted, and also a ball of nerves. They’re gonna exchange presents in the “common room”, in about thirty seconds, and he hasn’t slept to finish Keith’s present (barely finished, if we’re being honest).

 

The room is dimly lit by a wire-made tree covered in little sparkling bulbs, courtesy of Pidge and Hunk, and they’re all sat on the couch, expectant (and sleepy, because it’s the crack of dawn on the made up clock) gazes flickering between each other and the tree.

 

“So,” Lance starts, a little too loudly- and the alarm blares back. In a blink, they’re all standing up with tense faces. “There are Galran ships attacking us!” Allura shouts, and everyone gets in motion.

 

 _Fuck fuck fuck fuck_ , is what Lance thinks of this, clambering into Blue as fast as he can. Couldn’t they choose another day? Even yesterday would have been good. And how cliché is it to be interrupted just as they were going to exchange present? Is his life fiction?

 

“Lance, calm down, I can hear your thoughts from here,” Shiro patrons, although a little amused, in the comms.

 

He breathes through his nose and braces himself. “Okay,” he says.

 

He can feel the bond with the others tug at his conscience, and just as he launches Blue into the first enemy ship, he hollers “Let’s kick some Galra butt!”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Christmas is cancelled,” Lance groans, slumping onto the couch like a ragged doll.

 

The festive lights are still on, and they pass on the paladins’ exhausted faces, making them wince. The fight has been one of their longest ever, practically lasting all day (Lance’s clock is saying it’s like nine pm, which is absolutely hysterical). The Galra kept coming, like they could just duplicate themselves in a fucked up way of _ship mythosis_. Even Voltron’s had some difficulty into fending them all off. In the end, they practically hightailed out of there without looking back.

 

Allura sadly pats Lance’s head, but agrees. “I think a long night of sleep would do miracles,” she tries to sound positive “and we can exchange gifts tomorrow, right?”

 

Lance mumbles something affirmative, and then he’s hoisted up from the saint arms of Hunk, who vows to bring him to his room. This man is too good for this world, Lance thinks, but gently steps out of his hold to stand by himself.

 

“Thank you, big guy, but I have to take a shower before even thinking to go undercover,” he slurs, giving him a quick hug anyway. Hunk smiles affectionately, nods. After a general ‘good night’, everyone goes their way.

 

When Lance steps out of the shower, it’s almost an hour later. But he feels relaxed, and warm, and ready for a long night of sleep. He drags himself to his room, only to stop in his track because there’s a figure slumped in front of his door.

 

A figure that shakes lightly, and reveals to be none other than Keith, still grimy and looking sleepy as hell. “Took you long enough,” he mumbles, with a tone that aims to be grumpy but just manages to be adorable, and Lance is screaming inside.

 

Keith uncurls from his crouched position and stands up in a fluid motion, revealing a packet in his hands. Lance cocks his head in question, but when Keith moves to let him unlock the door, he does.

 

They enter, and Lance would feel self conscious about the mess of simil-yarn and clothes that is his room, if the thoughts in his head weren’t already too much. He’s about to say something along the lines of ‘I really keep it more tidy usually, believe me’ anyway, but Keith gently pushes the packet in his arms, while looking at the floor, and is that a _blush_?

 

“Your present,” Keith explains curtly, voice rough. “I thought I’d give it to you while it’s still Christmas, technically,” he adds then, for good measure.

 

Lance is befuddled. And so, _so_ smitten, god help him. But he has the presence of mind to exclaim a “Thanks!” and scrambles to find where he’s put Keith’s.

 

After a mortifying game of hide and seek between clothes and yarn and covers and pillows, he gives the offending packet to Keith, who eyes it suspiciously.

 

“Yeah, I know, it’s a soft present, any problems about it?” Lance teases, sitting on his bed and inviting the other to do the same. Which he does, looking like he could bolt any second, tense and on the edge of the comforter.

 

They start unwrapping together, but Lance actually slows down to see the expressions on Keith’s face, his hands suspended in the air, gripping the edges of his gift.

 

When he unfurls the soft piece of clothing in his hands, Keith literally gasps and makes an “oh” sound. Lance can’t stress this enough, he made Keith gasp.

 

“It’s- It’s a sweater,” Keith whispers, even though it seems like a question. “And… Is this _Mothman_?!”

 

With Keith’s eyes bored into his face, Lance has the graciousness to blush a little. He smiles, nods, and totally loses his mouth-brain filter in zero point zero zero one seconds. “I actually watched the movie, it’s pretty great if you don’t think about how creepy it really is and I get it, Mothman is a cool guy - ignoring that he viciously murders a lot of people for no reason at all and that he’s hairy and I actually think moths are disgusting but, you know, it’s your cup of tea and I shouldn’t have judged aaand you really dig him and I dig _you_ so I guess, sorry, now at least you have a sweater with his face on it?”

 

Silence. Oh sweet release of death. Did Lance say too much? He totally did. Holy shit.

 

Just as he’s about to pray for the ground to swallow him, Keith seems to recover from his stupor and nudges him gently, knocking their knees together and- keeping them like that. “Open yours,” he just says.

 

Lance fumbles with his wrapping, and sees the gloves first. Oh thank god, they actually have fingers.

 

He knows some of that train of thought must have shown on his expression, because Keith is smiling a little exasperatedly. He makes a “go on” motion with his hand, and Lance goes on.

 

The second thing is the face cream he ogled like a month ago on one of their recognition on a pacific planet with a cute little bazaar. He can’t believe Keith remembered?

 

“Of course I remembered,” Keith responds, softly, because he apparently said that out loud, “you couldn’t stop prattling and whining about not having money on your suit.” At this, he smirks.

 

Lance would be offended, but his chest is feeling hot and his head is getting dizzy, so he just looks at the other gift and- it’s a plant. It’s really small, with chubby leaves, and it’s exactly like one of the succulents his mom used to take care of with his little sisters. They had this big pot full of succulents, on the porch, and he can remember the many times he sat on the steps while looking at her carefully water them.

 

Just as he becomes aware of his cheeks getting suddenly wet, he feels careful fingers on them. Oh fuck, he’s crying. And Keith is touching his face. Trying to wipe his tears.

 

Lance recoils, and Keith follows him immediately. They’re talking over each other. “Oh my god I’m so sorry Lance I didn’t mean to make you cry I just wanted you to have something that reminded you of the Earth I’m sorry we’ll just throw it out I-” Keith is scrambling, his hands trying to grab the plant while Lance escapes him fiercely, word vomiting “No no no Keith wait listen I’m so happy you gave it to me I just felt overwhelmed I don’t wanna throw it out please just listen-”

 

The situation is severe. So Lance does the only thing he knows would shut Keith up. He kisses him.

 

He presses his lips on Keith’s and suddenly, everything is silent. Their eyes are wide open in shock, and they’re both reevaluating their life choices, but Keith’s hands grip Lance’s arms and he understands. Oh.

 

They both melt into it, the plant cradled between their bodies, and just keep kissing.

 

Soft lips move onto each others for a while, and then they separate, just a breath’s width. “I love it,” Lance murmurs, his eyes moving from the succulent to Keith’s mouth. “Thank you,” he adds.

 

Keith gulps, nods. “You too,” his voice is scratchy, his eyes wandering over Lance’s face, the plant and the sweater, that in the heat of the moment fell on the floor “for Mothman.”

 

At this, Lance can’t help himself. He guffaws, then starts outright laughing.

 

Keith seems confused, then offended, but when he starts chortling it’s genuine.

 

They laugh together for a while, and when they stop their foreheads are touching. The crinkles around Lance’s eyes are soft when he says “and now go to shower, grimy boy, and come back for cuddles.”

 

Keith chokes on air.

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo yeah this is it. I really hope it wasn't too bad lmao  
> Merry Christmas everyone!!!!!  
> Let me know if you enjoyed it? Be gentle.  
> 


End file.
